


The Tree At the Center of the World

by wisepuma23



Category: Doctor Who, Merlin (TV), Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Multiple Crossovers, Superwhomerlock, THATS HOW COMPLEX THE PLOT WAS GOING TO BE, THIS IS COMPLETELY UNEDITED OKAY, Time Travel, and i have literally no idea where this was going, but i lost them, but this is an eternal WIP, i mean i had NOTECARDS for each timeline and stuff, i probably need to look for them, like so many, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 15:32:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7444438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisepuma23/pseuds/wisepuma23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>completely unedited and this was written THREE years ago!!</p>
<p>i re-read this in one afternoon when i was supposed to be writing a week ago because i was blown away by my plot skills lmao</p>
<p>where did i go wrong</p>
<p>but i do NOT miss my grammar mistakes back in the day and my characterizations......so painful</p>
<p>i don't even ship johnlock anymore AND merthur as much as i used to</p>
<p>;A;</p>
<p>seriously tho i DIDN'T REMEMBER I USED TO SHIP MERTHUR</p>
<p>2013 was a dark time</p>
<p>lol</p>
<p>but i hope you enjoy my old writing since im putting this out here in celebration of getting a new laptop :D</p>
        </blockquote>





	1. Prequel

_**The Lakes of Avalon, 515** _

Arthur felt icy hands wrap around his soul as he struggled to breathe. _Merlin_. He needed him, as much he hated to admit. He shuddered in his manservant arms, _ **-Just hold me-**_ he could see someone behind his servant at the edges of his disappearing vision. Reaper, his brain scraped up the plausible conclusion, no doubt here for him. He saw the Reaper slither closer, it was a young woman with light skin and long dark hair and the dying king _knew_ he had only seconds left. Arthur looked up at Merlin, his best friend clutching on to him, desperately trying to ground him to the world of the living. Those beautiful eyes, in his cruel pain, a new emotion blossomed; _content_ , even relief that the last thing he would see would be Merlin's bright _familiar_ blue eyes instead of the more likely alternative--staring into an enemy's cold glare as he is sliced through his bloody armor on an unknown battlefield like he always expected. As the reaper finally loomed over him, hands reaching out toward him, Arthur looked away from the woman and back to Merlin, _**Thank You**_ , he finally rasped out before he fell limp in his servant's arms.

 

**Alpine, Wyoming July 19th 2010**

Dean is singing out of tune to Metallica's _**“ReLoad”**_ which Dean argues that is one of their greatest songs ever and anyone who disagrees should close their cake hole and walk away out of his line of sight until their feet fall off. Sam is giving bitch face no. 23 _Turn the music down you jerk_. He laughed as he reached down to crank the music louder and screamed at the top of his lungs to match the volume. He could see the intensity of his brother's glare turn ten times more than normal that even rivaled Kristen Stewart's bitch face, _and she had skill_. They finally arrived at a suitable hotel that didn't seem _that_ sleazy but then again looks could deceive. It was a chilly 60 degrees and the skies was filled with a somewhat depressing gray. Dean smiled as he remembered a pick-up line perfect for a day like this; _Do you know why the sky is so gray? Because all the blue is in your eyes._ True, it only worked on blue-eyed girls but it was still a good line! He parked in front of the hotel and got out to go to the trunk to gather their supplies for the hunt ahead. The day before, Sam found mysterious disappearances that their father deemed as _very important_ underlined and circled and even had arrows pointing toward it in his journal. But the next page was ripped out with all information relevant to it, only something mentioning something about a storm. The Winchesters think it might point to omens, but it must be something important because it was in the section where Dad labeled as _**Important Other**_ , which meant that Dad found something worth looking into other than their mother's death which was unusual. Also different dates were listed under it with instructions to be at Alpine, Wyoming to use in absolute emergencies. It was all very confusing but that's why the two brothers are here to find out what it is that Dad considered to be so strange about a monster, maybe it wasn't a monster but worse usually came to worse.

“Dude, I think I may have lost my hearing.” Sam complained.

“Bitch.” 

“Jerk. ”

“See, it's a miracle! You didn't lose your hearing after all.” Dean snickered, “Sammy, check us in will you?”

 

_**The Mobox Home world, 5156** _

“DOCTOR!” Amy screamed as she scrambled inside the TARDIS doors, followed by her husband Rory and best friend, the Doctor. He promised the happily married couple that they would go a nice leisure planet with beautiful sunsets and a safe atmosphere with massages, _massages_ , for god's sake! But, _nooo_ , it had to be a planet with danger at every turn and bulky creatures that breathed fire. 

Amy fumed,“Doctor, I asked for something very simple and relaxing to get AWAY from the danger instead running toward it, AGAIN”.

“Yes, yes, I know! Usually the Mobox is very friendly, I think I may have landed in the wrong century.” The Doctor answered as he pressed seemingly random buttons on the TARDIS console.

“Um, Doctor, let's go back to Earth, preferably Costa Rica, or even the Caribbean.” Rory suggested hopefully. The Doctor yelled out a shout of approval as his ship tumbled, and twisted in the Time Vortex, with a screech they finally landed. The Doctor pulled a screen up to him and read out the date and place.

_**Alpine, Wyoming, July 26th 2013** _

 

**_London, England, August 2012_ **

Sherlock was curled into a fetal position on his couch, laying still like he had for the past 3 hours. John was currently updating his blog on the chair across from the only consulting detective in the world which was sulking like a five-year old. _Sigh_. He remembered the whole reason why Sherlock was acting like a bratty child because he refused to give him the information where he hid the fags. Sherlock responded by giving his best friend the silent treatment, _HA,_ as if! Now that he thought about it, John was feeling a bit peckish for a cuppa. He slowly got up and walked to the kitchen, silently praying that at least one kettle was clean to use. John checked the pantry – _Oh thank the gods!_ \-- there was one clean kettle and one cup that wasn't yet tainted by his flat mate’s experiments. As the tea brewed in the kettle, John sat on of the stools and washed some of the dishes the best he could while he waited for the plain silver kettle to whistle. Suddenly he heard a phone ringing in the living room, then it got cut off. John quickly turned off the stove _-so the apartment doesn't burn down while they're gone-_ and put the kettle away in the refrigerator, beside the intestines that is presently residing for the newest experiment. He grabbed his coat and walked briskly to the door, Sherlock was already there and grinned at him. “Lestrade called, we got a case,some mysterious disappearances and a _date_. John, there might be a murder! Oh jolly it's Christmas!” John sighed but quickly smiled back to his friend because the detective rarely gave a genuine smile and it was infectious. They ran outside to hail a taxi and quickly gave instructions to Scotland Yard.


	2. Chapter 1

Arthur was lying down on the softest grass he ever experienced, he could feel the sun's hot glare through his eyelids, his eyes fluttered open as he took in the beautiful surroundings. He recognized this place, it was covered in endless fields of barley and the River of Thames snaked through it. Arthur's squinted eyes followed the stream until it banked at the base of a large oak tree. Something stirred in him as he remembered a fleeting memory of his childhood. It was the same tree that Arthur climbed to get over the citadel's walls and into the forest to play everyday with Morgana, it was also the same tree that his father, King Uther, ordered his knights to cut down because he believed bandits could get in that way. 

Arthur slowly got up, expecting pain but got none, looking down, he didn't see his bloodied armor but instead his favorite red tunic with black slacks. He cautiously lifted his shirt to confirm that there was at least a scar but there was none, however, this miraculous healing didn't apply to other scars gained through past battles.

Arthur clearly baffled, decided he had no other choice but to follow the river to the should have been dead tree in the silhouette of the horizon. As he walked, he realized that his earlier description of the golden fields was accurate because when he tried to see beyond the furthermost reaches of his eyes, there was only more wheat, indicating no end to it in all directions. Despite the Sun lying high in the sky, Arthur estimated by now at least an hour gone by but the circle of light haven't wavered in its position in the clear blue sky. Blue. _Merlin_. Arthur also found another curious case about this strange place. He never felt tired, sweaty, or hot at all, due to logic it should be all of the above but instead he never have been this fit in all 35 years of existence. Now that he thought about it, just how much his new found abilities could stretch? Could he run? Could he fight for hours on end? Does he need to eat or sleep or drink? Arthur sighed. He continued to walk but at much slower pace so he could focus on thinking. Another memory bubbled to the surface;

“ _Merlin, let me think!”Arthur exasperated._

“ _Don't think too much sir, wouldn't want you to hurt yourself.” Merlin smiled cheekily._

Arthur huffed as he tried to move his mind away from increasingly depressing thoughts and went back to the task at hand. Arthur gave himself a mental check up before suddenly sprinting to the oak tree, avoiding large rocks that lined the brook. When the king looked at the tree at any change, it actually _moved_ away from him, getting further and further into the distance. He stopped, trying to avoid to doing more damage than necessary. _Okay, apparently I have to get to the tree at my own rate or otherwise the tree is going to run away from me like I'm a troll._

Arthur gave a small chuckle as he recalled the time when Uther literally married a troll, his father didn't speak to his family for days, trying to live down the embarrassment. Arthur and Merlin giggled in private whenever the word troll came up in the conversation. As the Prince of Camelot at the time, he tried to hide his giggles while Merlin _that clotpole_ , shamelessly sniggered at the king, at least it was in Arthur's chambers instead of the court where he would be thrown into the stocks. A faint smile ghosted his lips when he remembered that Merlin actually seemed to enjoy being in the stocks, he was never sure if he was a masochist or just being sarcastic, he will never know now. Arthur continued walking, reliving his memories, the best and the worst, even the most boring ones. 

His eyes followed the different grooves and bumps of the rich brown soil along the river, he was no longer interested in his destination, he let his feet guide him wherever he needed to go, he was dead as a doornail, nothing he could do about it. Maybe everything here was an hallucination produced in his last dying moments, it could be seconds out there, and days or even years in here. Arthur decided instead to follow his earlier train of thought and was curious if he even needed to breathe. 

He didn't. 

As Arthur continued to wallow in more thoughts questioning the meaning of life, the universe and everything, he didn't even notice that the landscape underneath changed from wheat to different flowers and herbs. 

“Hey son, what are you doing looking at the ground” a gruff voice asked him.

Arthur, startled, looked up and found a dark skinned man in strange clothes kneeling in a garden, around the oak tree filled with plants of every color imaginable. Arthur gasped like a fish until his shocked brain considered something to say that didn't sound too stupid.

“Who are you?” the king asked warily.

“My name is Joshua, I'm an angel of the lord and this tree you see here, it's the _Axis Mundi_ , it's the path between Heaven and Earth” Joshua answered.

“An angel? But, you don't have wings or have a halo or anything like that, you’re just...just a--”

“A man? Looks could be deceiving, my true form is too painful for mortal eyes, if I showed you my wings, your eyes would burn out of your skull.”

“Oh” Arthur answered dumbly.

“So you are the Arthur Pendragon, the Once and Future King. God has great plans for you, He is a bit excited that everything is falling into motion.”

“God? So angels speak to Him? What is God like?” Arthur said curiously.

“I don’t know. I haven’t met Him. “Joshua answered matter of factually.

Arthur chewed on this information, finally processed, he asked just what plans did the All Mighty Creator included him in. Joshua gave no answer but instead gave a beautiful flower that had blue petals that had the _same exact shade as Merlin's_ _eyes_ and the center of the flower was as black as Merlin's curly raven locks. 

As Arthur opened his mouth to question him, Joshua promptly replied with “This flower contains every secret, every hidden treasure of his memories he kept from you, including his worst moments. But, it's limited to the moment he met you to the moment you died. I want you to study just how much he has done for you, and to get a better understanding of his character and magical abilities. However, the examples shown here in this flower is only the tip of the iceberg, Merlin doesn't yet conceive just how powerful he can be and why he is considered to be most powerful sorcerer to have ever walked the Earth.”

“ _Merlin?_ ” Arthur gave an unbelievable puff, even though Merlin told him only days before his unfortunate departure, he still hadn’t had time to actually digest that his best friend had magic when Camelot's laws prohibited all magic from the grounds and yet the cabbage head who had such an honest look could hide such a dark secret.

“Are you sure, we are talking about the same Merlin, the one with the large ears?” Arthur gave another disbelieving stare. 

Joshua responded with a confirmed nod, “Arthur, you need to go to Heaven, and eventually you will be called down to Earth, in the meantime, you can watch over Merlin, both of you have such a long wait.” 

The man finally got off his knees and put a hand on his shoulder and lead him _through_ the large oak tree and everything suddenly brightened so much that it was painful, Arthur shut his eyes in hopes that the pain stopped, the dark grip of unconsciousness graced him an end to the searing pain. The first thing Arthur saw in his Heaven was Merlin's smiling face above him.

“Merlin! What the hell are you doing here?!” Arthur shouted.

“Why can you never just say thanks?” Merlin muttered.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dean flashed his FBI badge, today he was Agent Han Solo, it was his personal favorite. Sam of course went to a lamer one, Agent Steve, he was still surprised whenever they dished out one of their lesser works and still managed to fool people that they were the actual authorities. It was almost comical to see just how much faith people have in the Man, not realizing just how common fake badges are since they don't really know what a FBI badge actually looks like and when they do, it's usually too late and the Winchester brothers were long gone. The young sheriff here was no different as he waved his hand to let them through into the town morgue. The old coroner, Mr. O’Donnell, rolled out three bodies, a teenage boy, a middle-aged man, and a young woman.

“These bodies are very peculiar,” Mr. O'Donnell coughed, “Tell me what's strange about the teenage boy, I need fresh eyes, you know?”. Dean knew the drill, he has seen enough dead bodies and injuries that practically has qualified as a Doctorate's degree in human anatomy.

“The left rib cage is smashed in, and it looks like the skull is fractured in seven places, ouch.” Dean suggested hopefully.

“That is the perfect analysis, in fact it's on my report word for word, but tell me what do you think is the time of death?” The old man croaked.

“It looks like they died at least 3 or 2 days ago, or even yesterday.” Sam answered also looking closely at the body of the young man.

“It does, doesn't?”, Mr. O’Donnell gave an uneasy smile,”According to our archives, all of the victims have been missing for at least 20 years, yet they look like they have just been murdered yesterday.” he finished with a slump into a nearby chair. The brothers looked at each other, exchanging looks that communicated their disbelief, and started arguing with a few gestures and eyebrows raised.

“Sir, may we see the records?” Sam asked politely, darting a glare at his older brother.

“I know what you guys are thinking, I'm just a senile old man, but I have served here for over 50 years, I recognize the victims when they were still alive, oh those poor families.” the coroner hacked out a wet cough. Dean tilted his head at the older man, as if to say _see? He really is a senile old man!_ Sam shakes his head in disagreement, he asked again where the archives were located, and Mr. O'Donnell directed the FBI agents to the local library.

“Wait, Agents! I forgot to show you, look on the right hand. It's the same on all the bodies.” The older man groaned as he sat up from his chair. He shuffled to the nearest body, which was the young woman, and flipped her hand over to reveal black markings. The Winchesters quickly walked back to the body and examined the squiggles closer.

“It's a date? I think that's July 24th of 2013. That's only one week from now.” Dean furrowed his forehead, he could feel a vague sense of recognition, but couldn't place his finger on it.

“Thank you sir, we will go look at the archives now. Bye!” Sam ushered both of them out of the police station until they reached the Impala.

“Dude! We could have gotten more information from him!” Dean started the engine, only pausing to hear his Baby purr.

“Dean, that date is same one that Dad wrote in his book. Look! See?” Sam held up his journal.

“Okay fine, but you're going to the library, and I'm going to the motel, they have magic fingers!” Dean smirked at the gross expression of Sam when he mentioned the heavenly massaging machine. 

“TMI, jerk!” Sam stuck out his tongue. “I think we should call Cas, he's probably lonely out there, hiding from his family.” Sam glanced at Dean, quick enough to see his jaw tense at the mention of the angel.

“Fine, and he needs experience if he wants to be a hunter. Oh Castiel, could you get your feathery perfect little ass over here.” Dean mocked in a high voice as per usual.

“Hello, Dean.” a rough voice greeted beside him.

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST” the car swerved dangerously in shock.

“No, I'm Castiel, and do not blaspheme” Castiel gave a note of disapproval.

“Trying to give a heart attack, man?” Dean scowled

“What he's really saying is that he's happy that you're here” Sam smiled.

“Shut up, Samantha. Okay, there has been some really weird things going on that even Dad has noticed in his journal. See?” Dean dropped the book on his friend's lap.

“I believe these are dates? Strange, it seems to date up to 2015 and as early as 1998, and the next page supposedly contain more information is ripped out. One of the dates is from one week from now.” Castiel declared.

“Yea, we found that date scrawled on these bodies, here's the weird part, they look like they have just been killed a couple of days before but they have been missing for 20 years, so I'm going to the archives to see if they were kidnapped and then killed or if the murderer is crazy good at preserving his victims.” Sam explained as Dean pulled up to the curb of the library. The younger Winchester stepped out, taking his bag of clothes to change into and his notebook.

“Hey Cas.” Sam bent over to the passenger window.

“Yes Sam? What do you need help with?” the angel answered blankly.

“Sit up in front will you? Since I'm not sitting there right now and I think Dean's glad not have someone to tell about his “shotgun shuts his cake-hole, and driver picks the music” rule.” he smirked as he saw his older brother jaw drop to the floor in shock. He walked toward the open library doors, when he heard the typical shout of “BITCH”, “JERK” he shouted back.

\----------

“Dean?” Cas asked quietly in the car, no music was on, so he took that as a go ahead.

“Yeah?”

“Did you see this part?” pointing at the words in the journal.

“What part, Cas?”

“He made sure to emphasize these words, The Doctor, it has the same attention as these dates” he explained.

“Yea, we couldn't figure out that part, wait Cas, tell me what color the words are in.”

“Orange”

“Orange means it's a dangerous someone, not a something.” Dean said with a note of bitterness.

“The Doctor......” Cas could feel a memory stirring deep in his large consciousness, of a terrible creature that the Justice of Heaven could not capture, not even a war could deter it. He remembered that the title of The Doctor was soaked in the blood of a billion galaxies, it was often thought of a god, however it wasn't registered as one, which made him a madman. The old celestial being could feel a rush of memories, from so long ago before the Earth was created. Lucifer and Michael making plans and using sources as the Shadow Proclamation to note it's progress. He could barely see over the battle table as other archangels flew by and carried out orders. In the dusty memory, the angel could feel the wonderful presence of his Father, but something's wrong, His Father was _worried._

“Cas, hey! Quit spacing out, man!” his charge's voice bringing him back to the present.

“Sorry, I'm remembering something from....long ago”

“Well?” Dean encouraged.

“The Doctor was a terrible creature, or man if you want to debate. I was really young back then, I could barely could fly long distances and this was before the Earth was created, when the relationship between Lucifer and Michael is very much like between you and Sam, the closeness of brothers. Father was there too, something was wrong...it's hard to remember so many eons ago.” Castiel sighed as he thought of happier times before Lucifer's fall.

“The Doctor had a TARDIS, Time And Relative Dimension In Space, a very common thing for his species, before he murdered them of course. I believe it was the Time War, between Time Lords and the Dale--” the angel hissed in pain.

“Whoa, Cas are you okay? We just arrived at the motel, come on inside.” Dean gave him a worried look.

“This isn't good, Dean, an angel has a perfect memory, but when I try to remember just exactly how I know that, I get bombarded with another memory, one without The Doctor. I've never had...conflicting memories.” Cas explained as he slumped against his friend, grateful that he didn't have to walk alone. Dean wrapped an arm around wait propping him against his body to use as a crutch, he finally dropped both of them on a bed.

“Dude, if it really hurts that much then, you don't have to--”

“NO!”

_Silence.._

“I'm sorry, Dean. I'm not very useful, am I? Sorry, I will keep trying to remember.”

“You shouldn't apologize. Besides I'm taking a nap after I find some quarters I can use.” Dean smiled that didn't quite reach his eyes. He got up from the bed and started to shuffle through the duffel bag on the floor next to him, rummaging for any spare change. He gave a shout of victory as he found 4 rusty quarters that probably will do the job. He walked up to the small night stand that had the coin machine for Magic Fingers, however there was a sign covering it.

THIS MACHINE IS OUT OF ORDER

Thank you for choosing Motel 29, enjoy your stay!

“Sonofabitch” Dean cursed, his back was really hurting now due to the extra strain of half carrying, half dragging Cas' heavy ass inside. He was getting old, Dean wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“What is it, Dean?”

“The damn Magic Fingers isn't working, my back really hurts, _ugh_ ” Dean slumped on the bed, propping his elbows on his knees and covering his eyes with his hands in defeat. Suddenly he felt warm hands kneading his back, he straightened in shock.

“Sorry, I was trying to make up for your massaging machine, if you don't want it, I understand.” a voice said behind him as the hands retracted from his back, leaving cold spaces where it rested.

“N-no. It's fine. You started it, might as well finish it.” Dean leaned forward to allow more light on his back, the hunter knew it left him open to attack but this was _Cas_ , he trusted him with his family's lives. The warm comforting hands returned, slowly working the knots in back away, his body relaxing as each roll of tension was released. All of the sudden, he felt hands pinching the fat above his hips, he giggled, he swatted the hands away from his funny bone.

“What is it?”

“That was my funny bone, I'm ticklish there.”

“Ticklish?”

“It means that I laugh uncontrollably there, some people have it in different places, or don't have it at all. I don't really like it, it makes me feel like a girl.” Dean explained drowsily as the hands worked nearby his spine. He felt another unexpected pinch, this time he gave a hearty laugh, that left him breathless. He scowled playfully as he pushed the hands away from his ticklish spot. The hands finally started working on the muscles surrounding the shoulder blades.

“Hey guys, guess what---Ugh guys get your room!” Sam shouted as he slammed open the door. Dean quickly sat away from the angel, ignoring his body's protests, Sam was excited about something.

“Sherlock Holmes is coming to America!!!” Sam was positively radiating nerdiness.

“Wait, isn't he a book character that movies keep making parodies of?” Dean questioned.

“Sherlock is a famous blogger, not a book character, that's crazy, Dean.” Sam answered.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“ _America?_ ” Rory said skeptically as they stepped outside into the town square.

“This isn't even Britain, I know River told us that you were a bad driver, but not _this_ bad” Amy punched the Doctor's arm.

“OW! It's not my fault! Something brought us here But what?” he brought out his sonic screwdriver and scanned the environment. Code Purple.

“Uh, Doctor?” Rory poked him in the side.

“Rory not you too. I'm trying to figure out what brought us here! It's saying Code Purple, I don't even _know_ Code Purple. Grapes? Royalty? What?” the Time Lord blabbered on before receiving another jab to his gut.

“We should probably go, like _now._ ” Amy backed up a step.

“Would you stop doing that?” the Doctor turned around. ''Oh, that's not good” he smiled.

**DOCTOR**

**12 14 023 320**

**2000**

**-BAD WOLF**

The Time Lord laughed, “GOOD OL' ROSE!” he ran toward the large letters spray painted into the side of the building across the plaza. As the Ponds caught up with their old friend, who seems to be kissing the sign, enthusiastically.

“Who's Bad Wolf and Rose?” Amy asked.

“Or” he responded muffled by the bricks he was hugging.

“What?”

“Bad Wolf or Rose. They're the same person, but oh! So very different.”

“Okay then, what's the difference?” Rory punched in.

“Rose used to be my companion, she was wonderful! She was gorgeous and she stayed with me even when I regenerated. She was amazing! You should have seen her in action, she was smart, funny, and a little bit sassy.”

“What happened to her?” Rory asked quietly.

“We were fighting the Cybermen and the Daleks off, put them in the space between worlds. However, the lever that opened that hole didn't stay in place. So she pushed it back into position but she couldn't hold on to it. She was about to fall with them, but.....long story short. To this world, she's dead, but she's still alive in a parallel world, I can never visit her.” The Doctor finished sadly.

“Wow...I'm sorry. But you still haven't told us about Bad Wolf.” Amy patted her friend's back encouragingly.

“I was about to kill myself, and the Earth, year 5100 I believe, in order to kill the Daleks, I sent Rose away to save her. She came back to me, she looked into the soul of the TARDIS and the whole of the Time Vortex, she became a god. Bad Wolf. She sent those words across time and space and it was used as messages to lead herself to that moment. It's all so very confusing, but that's what Bad Wolf is, a message from Rose. And now a message to me.” The Doctor quickly walked to the nearest bar, which was to the left of the graffiti message.

“What are you doing? Shouldn't we get back to the TARDIS?” Amy whispered as they sat at the bar.

“I thought it was obvious, we're getting information, right Rory?” The Doctor spinning on his stool, waiting for an answer.

“Rory?” Amy glanced around, no husband in sight. The two friends looked at each other, they nodded in sync. _Rory's gone, where is he?_

\-----

Rory wasn't really paying attention to the Doctor talking about the meaning of the large message. However, he did see the blonde man in a red hood that ran into him.

“Oh, sorry” Rory apologized. The man continued walking, not even turning around to see if he was okay. However, he did see his face, beautiful blue eyes and hair that was fair as fields of barley. He did look familiar, why did he seem familiar? He has never seen him in his life! _Oh,_ maybe I met him while I was the Lone Centurion, I did meet a lot people back then. Without realizing it, he started to follow the strange man, determined to find out who he is. His back straightened and his posture turned rigid of a soldier, as Rory subconsciously reverted back to that dark time.

_“Who are you?” the king asked._

_“Many people call me by many different names, the most common is the Lone Centurion. Who are you?” Rory stood in front of the Pandorica, which was dragged into the large hall._

_“I am King Arthur of Camelot, why have you come here?”. Rory looked around, why did he come here? He remembered villagers speaking of a fair and just land called Camelot. It stirred memories of a time far ago of bedtime stories about Prince Arthur and his sorcerer Merlin. He thought they were nothing but stories for babies, however maybe there was a grain of truth in those tall tales._

_“I arrived here, hoping for refuge from King Cenred.”Rory told the king, but it was only a half-truth. He knew Cenred's men thought that the Pandorica contained powerful magic, it was powerful but certainly not anything they could use or hope to understand. The other reason was that he was lonely, and he did want to take Amy sightseeing, just so he can say, “You were in the same halls as King Arthur! I'm not lying, I swear”. He smiled sadly as he recalled her dazzling smile, it was getting harder to remember her as each century went by._

_“Okay. Merlin! Show him his quarters.”_

_“No, my lord. I do not require sleep or food. I will wait in the courtyard, I believe that would be a more suitable place.” Rory suggested. He was glad that he remembered to put a 'my lord' in there, it's been awhile since he's talked with royalty. Wait, didn't Arthur just mention someone named Merlin? He looked around and saw a young man, with black hair and very blue eyes, he was walking toward him. Oh right! The courtyard. Rory bent down and grabbed the handles of the cart that the Pandorica rested on, he made it himself. Too much time on his hands._

_“Come on, Lone Centurion, I'll show you where the best place to get this box down again.”_

_“You're Merlin, aren't you?” Rory asked as he racked his head, trying to remember Merlin's second name._

_“That's right! I'm that clotpole manservant. I swear I save his life one time, and that’s all it takes to be part of the royal household. “ Merlin muttered. They were walking down on one of those private corridors for servants, since it was the only halls large enough for Amy to travel through without attracting too many eyes. Public places made him nervous, he knew people are greedy, especially when it comes to things they don't understand._

_“Is magic allowed here?” Rory asked curiously, he wondered if Camelot was the magic-loving place it was told of in the future._

_“No, it isn't. In fact, it's against the law to practice magic on Camelot's grounds where the penalty is death.” Merlin answered quietly._

_“Oh! I remember you now! Emrys is your second name, that’s what the Druids call you. The greatest---MM” Rory struggled against Merlin's hand on his mouth. His robotic part of him kicked in and in seconds he had Merlin on the floor, his face stoic as stone. When he realized that his plastic self took over for a couple seconds, his blank face melted into one of concern._

_“Oh my god. I'm so sorry. Did I hurt you. I didn't realize my own strength, I'm used to fighting off bandits and the like. I'm so sorry.” Rory fretted as he released his hands from the sorcerer. His armor clanged as metal plates slide over another as he stood up and offered a hand to Merlin. He took the offer._

_“You don't have to apologize, that was a stupid move anyways. But, you shouldn’t say these things here, the walls have ears you know?” Merlin patted his shoulders, dusting himself off from lint. They walked to the courtyard in silence before Rory thought of another question._

_“Where's Morgana?” he asked quietly as he pulled the Pandorica off the cart and into the center of the courtyard. Merlin was staring, probably baffled at his incredible strength without breaking a sweat, not like he could anyways._

_“Somewhere, she's plotting Arthur's demise as per usual.” Merlin answered. “What's in there? From what I know, the Lonely God gave you this to guard, it will save the world some day.” Merlin said._

_“The Lonely God? That's surprisingly a good description but that's not his name. Inside the Pandorica, isn't the secret to life, the universe, and everything. If you want to be poetic, it's True Love in there, trapped inside instead of the Lonely God.” Rory sighed, breathing wasn't mandatory but it made him seem more human and less plastic._

_“If you don't want to be poetic?”_

_“It's my wife in there. The love of my life. I'm willing to wait for 2000 years until we meet again. If that isn't love then what is?”_

Rory watched the young man walk in front of a hotel room. So he's a visitor? The door opened, and was greeted with a very familiar man with black hair and very blue eyes. He could hear the shout of “Arthur!” as the man hugged the one in the blue hood, he was wearing the same thing only it's blue. Rory smiled, the greatest sorcerer who have ever lived, had finally met his Once and Future King again, after nearly two thousand years. He remembered that no matter how far he traveled, he still managed to get back to Merlin, he stayed with his best friend when the anniversary of the King's death rolled around. However, why is Merlin and Arthur here? In Alpine, Wyoming of all places? Maybe he could slip away unnoticed, he didn't want to interpret them. Maybe Merlin didn't remember him since the Doctor reseted the universe.

“Rory? What are you doing here?” Merlin looked quizzically at him.

_Curses!_


	3. Chapter 2

Sherlock quickly entered the morgue, his coat bellowing after him, John was only slightly annoyed by his friend’s dramatic gestures. There was only so much he could do, and he did like how the coat collar highlighted his cheekbones, but that’s something he wouldn’t share out loud, he wasn’t that stupid. Molly was wearing a nice light pink lipstick today, he wasn’t sure about the correct color name for it, but he was sure it was named after a flower. She rolled out three bodies, a young woman, a teenage boy, and a middle-aged man. Sherlock immediately went to work, didn’t bother to say hello or even a nod of acknowledgment, really the manners that man had. Molly left them to work it out as she went upstairs to sort out paperwork.

“American, seems to have been murdered 2 or 3 days ago. Seems to have been beaten in the left chest cavity and the skull is fractured in 7 different places. Traces of clay under the fingernails, need to look into the exact type later. Markings on the right palm, it’s a date. It is slightly smudged but I believe it is the date 4 days from now.” Sherlock deduced as he looked over the two other bodies, however there was nothing else.

“John, will you do the honors?” Sherlock waved his hand toward the scalpels on the metal table beside him. The military doctor scoffed, did the consulting detective really just allowed him to an autopsy like it was a privilege.

“Lovely, an autopsy. What a joy.” John rolled his eyes as he snapped on the rubber gloves. He carefully picked a scalpel and opened the body in a Y formation, Sherlock looming over him, watching his every move. It was enough to creep him out and scold at the taller man, “Sherlock, would you stop hovering, I’m trying to concrete.” Was he pouting? Seriously? A 35-year old man that was the only consulting detective in the world that had a brother that was literally the british government was _pouting??_ John sighed, he could feel guilt pooling at the bottom of his feet, great. He opened his mouth to apologize, but instead he noticed something strange carved on the rib bones, it looked too detailed for it to be written with a blunt instrument.

“Sherlock, I need your magnifying glass” 

“Why? What did you find?” Sherlock asked suspiciously.

“I just need it, _please?_ ” John gave him a look.

“You’re giving me a look.” Sherlock complained.

“What look? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” John replied innocently.

Sherlock scoffed.

“Give an inch, give a mile.” Sherlock glared.

_Ugh, Sherlock!_

“It’s just a magnifying glass.”

“And fags are just fags.” Sherlock turned away.

_Oh_.

“So that’s what this is about? This petty argument over some fags, which you don’t need!”

Sherlock didn’t reply, _was he giving him the silent treatment?_

“Fine then, I’ll just get another magnifying glass, one I don’t need to argue for.” John turned to Molly, who just walked into the room after filing some paperwork earlier, he gave his best charming smile.

“Molly, that is a lovely lipstick today. Light pink suits you very well, what’s the name of the color, I can’t remember it’s proper name.” John could see Molly blushing in embarrassment. 

“I-i-i didn’t really expect for someone to notice it. Thank you, John. It’s actually Rose, it’s a really nice color. My favorite.” Molly gave a faint smile. He could see Sherlock fiddling around with his scarf in the corner of his eye, the shorter man knew him well enough that was a telltale sign that he’s listening into the conversation. 

“Mine is lavender, which goes really well with pink you know?” John gave another playful smile. Molly stammered a response but gave up through the middle of it.

“Hey, Molly. Do you have a magnifying glass that I can use, please?” John asked politely. 

“Yes of course, here you go!” Molly handed him a nearby one, he could see it was much cleaner and larger than Sherlock’s. He thanked her, and by the time he was looking at his taller friend, he already gave up his little childish turn away and silent treatment. The detective was holding up his own magnifying glass, as if to give to John, but it was obvious it was too late.

“Look Sherlock, there is something carved on the ribs.” John studied the bones closer, he could barely decipher the squiggles which he presumed were to be letters. 

“Can you read it, John?” Sherlock loudly asked, as if the little spat never happened. John mentally rolled his eyes.

“Give me a sec’ here…J-O-H-N…..S-M-I-T-H and hold on, there’s more...THE-DOC-TOR.” John muttered out loud.

“John Smith? The Doctor? That’s sounds like a ridiculous name.” Sherlock huffed. John didn’t move, the two words bouncing around in his head frantically, going circles, loop-de-loops, and even doing barrel rolls. 

_Dad?_ This wasn’t happening, he hoped that his composure on the outside held up enough that Sherlock didn’t notice. _Dammit, Dad, I was liking this place._ He could hear someone calling his name over and over, right, he should stop wallowing around in his head, where dark memories threatened to bubble to the surface.

“John? Could you give me your phone? _Please?_ ” Sherlock held his hand out toward him. 

“Oh, right. I was just thinking what kind of parents would name their kids with such terrible names.” John laughed dryly as he handed over his phone.

_** Google Search: The Doctor/ John  ** _

**_Web Results: 1,000_ **

**__**Is the Doctor fact or fiction? Who is John Smith?

**_Mysterious planets in the sky happened, ⅓ of the population agrees..._ **

**_Why is the British government covering this ‘John Smith’ issue up?_ **

**_“Government archives about the Doctor is classified” officials say…_ **

Sherlock exited out of the google application before bringing the phone to his ear. John asked who he was calling, he only replied “the government” and returned to listening the robotic rings on the other side of the phone, after a few seconds there was a firm click.

“Hello, Mycroft. Tell me who this Doctor fellow is?” 

“Sherlock, you will be picked up in the next 2 minutes, don’t be late if you really want to know about it.” his brother finished the call with another loud click. Sherlock gave him back his phone, which John was grateful for, he knew his flatmate tended to keep things to himself until they were found days later in some dark corner of a room. The long coat floated behind him as he made yet another dramatic exit, John sheepishly said goodbye to Molly before following his friend, lest he gets into any trouble. 

\---------

Sherlock was suspicious, he noted the tense muscles on John’s jaw and the slight furrow between his eyebrows when he mentioned ‘The Doctor’, he obviously knew something he didn’t. Which is very rare, his brain scrolled through whom this mysterious person could be to his friend, he remembered John really didn’t talk about his family that much. He only knew about his drunk sister, but then he didn’t really _know_. What was her favorite drink, movie, or even her laugh, it was the little things that mattered. Sherlock calculated the possibilities it could be a family member, it was only 42% of that possibility, usually it would be much less if he had more knowledge about John’s family life, but he didn’t. He could see John smiling at the beautiful girl escorting them to their destination, however she was too focused on her phone to give much acknowledgement, Sherlock carefully tuned into the conversation.

“Hello” John grinned.

“Hey” still not looking up.

“Again” John didn’t yet falter in his beaming grin. Sherlock didn’t help but tug slightly harder on his scarf, _I didn’t know John already met her. What else don’t I know?_

“I know. Hi.” the girl still didn’t acknowledge his friend, he couldn’t help but be a little smug.

“Sooo, do you have any time off this weekend?” he noticed John twiddling with his thumbs, obviously it is a sign of nervousness. 

“No” she answered bluntly.

“Oh, okay” his smile deflated. Sherlock’s happiness swinged into sudden guilt, why was he so affected by his friend’s love life? He didn’t really mean to scare John’s girlfriends away, but if they couldn’t handle the danger, then they weren’t good enough for an extraordinary man like John. Before he could finish his thoughts, the black government car finally stopped just outside Buckingham Palace. The place was alight with sunlight as he watched red guards stand in place, really, it must be utterly exhausting to stand there all day when tourist morons try to make you move.

The secret service escorted them inside, he immediately noted the handguns concealed in the belt of the agents, _ugh boring._ They were finally left one in the same rooms that they made their previous visit, when he refused to wear trousers, he smiled as he remembered the look on Mycroft and John’s face. Mycroft was sitting in the chair across from them, his brother motioned with his umbrella to sit down. They sat.

“How did you find out?” Mycroft asked, trying to look like he didn’t care but obviously he did.

“3 bodies, murdered, John Smith and The Doctor carved on their ribs, however there was no point of incision.”

“Interesting…” 

“So, tell us about what you know about this ‘Doctor’ person is” John making air quotes with his fingers.

“The thing is, strange things have been happening for months before you stumbled into this. John Smith or The Doctor didn’t exist in our archives”

“But…?” Sherlock made a go on gesture.

“5 months ago, when the world become a lot more frightening. The Doctor and these mysterious incidents that have never existed, yet a third of the British population insists that certain events really happened start showing up in our archives. There is also reports of mass murderers in America by the name of Winchesters, however the FBI and CIA bureaus have different stories, tips are suddenly covered up quickly as they are reported, people are protecting them, we don’t understand it. Also according to polls, half of the American population had never even heard of the Winchesters. There is also the stars.” Mycroft dropped a tan folder on the expensive table.

“What about the stars, Mycroft?” John asked as he picked up the folder.

“Everything”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

“They just suddenly disappear and new ones show up, and some others just combust out of nowhere. All scientists are divided on the issue, they also have conflicting databases and experiences. One side argues it’s because of colliding universes, another thinks it’s due to large unstable holes in space-time continuum and something about wormholes.” The older brother explained with a small twirl of his umbrella.

“I know there’s more, brother.” Sherlock laid back in a stubborn posture.

“Fine, there is also the mental patients who claim to have magic, however they show lots of baffling proof, it’s all there in that folder. They also seem to escape easily, and there is also mass disappearances of 12-year old children. Their parents claim it’s for magic school, and give us a bogus instruction to go to station 9 ¾.” Mycroft replied cooly. 

“Where did all of this start first? The conflicting databases.” John looked up as he flicked another page through the pile of data sorted in the manila folder.

“America, if you want an exact date and place, you have to fly over to FBI headquarters.” Mycroft suggested as he stood up to leave.

“Why not the CIA?” Sherlock still sat on the soft couch, refusing to stand up in defiance.

“The FBI has more information on the Winchesters, and besides I don’t trust the CIA, they are doing more spying than usual.” Mycroft walked out of the room and with a passing remark about how the airplane tickets were already paid for and they better leg it to catch their flight in 90 minutes.

\------------

_**Washington DC, America, 3 days later…** _

It took them a day to get to their destination, and at least a half of the second day finding the hotel, and Sherlock spent the rest of the day sleeping the jet lag off. It was their third day in America, and finally they were taking a cab to FBI headquarters, John brought his camera along to take pictures of the different historical spots scattered across the capitol, but there wasn’t time for that, unfortunately. When they arrived at the tall government building, they were escorted inside to the higher levels, where the hubbub of activity was most bustling at 10 in the morning. An agent walked up to them to introduce himself.

“Hello. My name is Agent Sterek, and I’m the current officer on the case of the Winchesters” Sterek looked to be in his late twenties, and had short brown hair and also had lean muscles that was covered up that unflattering suit of his, it looked like it was 2 sizes too big. John noticed he was easy on the eyes, grey ones that is. 

“Gay” Sherlock declared.

“E-excuse me?” Sterek eyed Sherlock cautiously.

“Sorry, I’m John Watson, and this is Sherlock Holmes, nice to meet you.” He shook hands in greeting.

“Pleasure” Sherlock smiled but didn’t shake the offered hand by Sterek, after a couple of seconds just awkwardly dropped it. _Sherlock, you’re being rude again._ John glared at his friend. Sherlock only gave a shrug, _I said hello and I smiled, isn’t that enough?_ John rolled his eyes, he could even see their visual banter was obvious to Sterek. 

“Uhm, not to interpret anything but, I think I can brief you guys in my office.” the young man walked toward the back of the bustling room, avoiding interns and hot coffees expertly. After a few minutes of a string of apologies and a few flirtations, with complete silence from Sherlock, which is extremely helpful to his goal of not getting kicked out yet, they finally arrived at the office. 

“Okay, Dr. Watson and Mr. Holmes…?”

“Please call me, Sherlock” the detective smiled pridefully, he glanced at John, _see! I’m smiling._ John only nodded in agreement, barely holding in the sarcasm. The FBI officer did another quick read on the strange atmosphere between the duo before awkwardly moving things along.

“Okay, about the Winchesters, according to our data archives we used to have a chief FBI officer on the case, a Mr. Henrickson.”

“But?” Sherlock leaned forward. _Sigh_ , John made a continue on motion, Sterek only fidgeted before talking again.

“But….. here’s the strange thing, we have two different deaths and cases on the public record, one was the Winchesters case and Hendrickson died in a building fire hours after he had arrested them. However, the other set of data states that Henrickson was part of this agency called UNIT and he died in a firefight, and here’s the kicker, on the same exact day. Something isn’t right here, man.”

“Is there anything else?” John asked helpfully.

“Yes, all tips and clues to their whereabouts are covered up as quickly they have been reported, and witnesses remain mute and deny they even met them. Not to mention last year, they went on a murder spree, yet people are still covering for them, I suspect it’s fear that’s protecting the Winchesters”

“I disagree, I believe it’s more of loyalty than fear, according to the briefing I’ve read in the UK, but may I see what the Americans have in this folder?” Sherlock gave another of his charming smiles. Sterek gave a few stutters before handing it over to him. It was completely silent in the office except for the flutter of papers.

“Soo….” John started awkwardly.

“So…….What’s up?” Sterek coughed pathetically. 

“Nothing much….you?”

“Nothing much either….hey do you wanna get some coffe---”

“Alpine Wyoming, a few months ago, July 24th.” Sherlock interrupted. 

“What?” John said confused at the sheer rudeness of Sherlock’s behavior and slightly annoyed. Then suddenly John felt the slight buzz of his cell in his pocket, he excused himself before stepping out into the hallway, he glanced at the Caller ID: _**BW**_.

“Who’s this?” the blogger hissed at the mysterious caller.

“It’s Bad Wolf, go to Alpine, Wyoming, find an excuse to bring Sherlock with you, go to the warehouse, somebody will pick you up. No time to waste.” the female voice answered with a click, ending the call.

_Mum? Aw, crap. This isn’t good at all, Dad and Mum are here, who’s next? Jenny?_ He could hear the thoughts going around in circles around his family being in this universe, whatever’s happening to the conflicting databases could be related to his apparent family reunion, this is most definitely not good.

John took a big breath, _less freaked out and more like just a bloody social call. Breathe, well it’s not gonna matter if I can’t fool the only consulting detective in the world with some breathing, shut up you! No, you shut up!_ John sighed tiredly as he felt the different voices of himself argue, he knew deep down he was putting off confronting Sherlock’s steely gaze. John took another big breath to calm the stormy sea in his mind before opening the door.

“Sherlock, let’s go visit Wyoming!” John smiled brightly with his dimples in full effect.

\--------------

_**1 day later…..** _

“John, where are you taking me?” Sherlock skipped along beside his friend.

“Look, I’m taking you to the warehouse” Sherlock could hear the note of annoyance in his voice.

“Whatever for?” Sherlock did a twirl, his coat flowing around him, he always did like to be dramatic.

“This is where the conflicting data started. There is two different accounts for this warehouse, and plus the dates from the bodies in England are _today_.” John explained it for 17th time.

“I know that, but _why_?” Sherlock adjusted his stride to match the other’s, and he stared down at John, hoping to guilt him into admitting what’s wrong.

“I just bloody told you, didn’t I?” John snapped. Sherlock looked away, hiding the look of hurt on his face, the detective knew something was wrong ever since they saw those engraved bones, but _why?_ They finally arrived at a large grey warehouse, but not even grey could accurately describe it, it was more of all the colors have been washed out so much that they aren’t colors anymore. John opened the double large iron steeled door without hesitation and walked in, Sherlock followed him inside, expecting cobwebs and dust. 

The double doors led them inside a large hangar, large enough for a 2 feet building in length, height, and width. Sherlock remembered that these warehouses are normally smaller, or at least more divided into rooms instead of just one big empty space. Sherlock spinned around slowly, quickly assessing his surroundings, it was clear of danger, only a few strange sigils on the walls and even that he deduced had no significance, probably some hooligans. That was before he heard that strange screechy sound, Sherlock spinned to John again, who was looking at something with wonder. Sherlock followed his friend’s line of sight when he saw a blue police box fading in and out, that was the last of his coherent thoughts before his brain short circuited. 

His brain jump started back into drive when he saw his friend running toward the strange thing, he ran after him, seeing no other option except for running but he wouldn’t run out on John. He saw John walking inside, and could hear introductions being made, and some notes of laughter. _What? But that’s not possible. ~~Quantum physics, lucid dream, cocaine breakdown, mental breakdown, extreme reaction to regression from fags,~~ IMPOSSIBLE IMPOSSIBLE IMPOSSIBLE!!! _

“Sherlock come in from the chill, it’s much warmer inside” John was staring at him, with his hand outstretched to him, leaning on the blue door frame.

“But it’s not large enough to contain the both of us” He argued back pathetically. 

“I admit I haven’t told you about my family life, because it’s too strange for the likes of you, so I’m asking you, do you trust me?” John’s eye crinkled with happiness and hope, Sherlock stared at the beckoning hand.

“Yes, course I do, you’re my bloody friend.” Sherlock grabbed his hand before being pulled inside, Sherlock gasped at the wonders before him.

“Alpine, Wyoming! Exactly one year later, to the date and the exact same place. _Allonsy!_ ”

\-------------

Amy was walking the streets with her friend, the Doctor, after 3 hours of searching, when she heard the ringtone of _I have loved you for a thousand years, I’ll love you for a---_

“Rory, where are you?”

“Ma’am, is this Amelia Pond?” a gruff voice answered.

“Y-yes. Who’s speaking? Can you put Rory on?” Amy could see the worried look on her friend’s face.

“Mrs. Pond, I have your husband here, he was arrested for assault, however the victim didn’t decide to press charges.”

“Oh, wait _assault?_ Rory wouldn’t hurt a fly! Can you tell me the address of the police station?” Amy stormed in the general direction of where she last saw Rory, the Doctor running after her asking her questions she didn’t have time for yet.

“It’s a block to the right of the bar in the plaza, can’t miss it, Ma’am.” the police officer said blankly. Amy hung up immediately after that, and then she ran a full sprint toward the plaza, glad to see her beloved again. Amy panted before a small police building, her Doctor only arriving seconds after she did, too tired to ask any more questions which it was a relief, before knocking open to doors dramatically.

“I need to see Rory, please?” Amy asked boldly to the secretary at the front desk.

“Wait, what? Rory’s in _here?_ Whatever for?” the Doctor asked with a furrow.

“Mrs. Pond, he’s waiting in the back, second door to the right. You can bail him out when you come back out if you want to.” the woman pointed helpfully to a door labelled _**Cells/Jail.**_

“Thank you, and of course I would want to bail him out.” Amy joked weakly. The older woman only nodded in sympathy, Amy held in her sarcastic response and marched inside the town jail.

“Rory!” Amy exclaimed rushing to her husband toward the back row of cells.

“Amy! I swear it’s all a misunderstanding!” Rory wrapped his arms around her through the bars.

“I’m gonna bail you out, you know, and then you tell me exactly what happened.” Amy commanded him before giving her husband a small peck on the lips, and hugging tightly again.

“Not to break up the hugging fest but what exactly did you arrested for?”

“Assault.” they answered in unison.

“Oh, you are most definitely explaining what the hell happened to you in the last three hours, I swear none of you lot understand the meaning of ‘Don’t wander off’, I suspect it’s a human thing.” the Doctor ranted. 

\---------------

They were outside in the plaza, standing in front of the TARDIS, both of them waiting for Rory’s explanation.

“Okay, I ran into King Arthur, and I followed him to this hotel and turns out Merlin was there too. He was my best friend during the time I was the Lone Centurion, however here’s the strange part, you reseted the universe, nobody should’ve remembered the Lone Centurion, but both of them remembered. How is that possible? So, I stayed with them and drank some tea and chatted, about…. _stuff_. They told me that something big is happening here, the magic world is running scared and so is the supernatural world, all of them are running away from this spot. They kept mentioning stars going out and new ones are showing up, the night sky is going chaotic, what did we land in this time, Doctor?” 

Amy squinted at her husband, she whispered “Don’t think I didn’t notice that you didn’t explain why you got arrested.” 

“Oh boy…this is going to be good” the Time Lord said, oblivious to the married couple. He glanced at the large message left by his beloved still staring back at them from across the plaza before zooming inside his TARDIS, his companions rushing inside after him.

“What’s happening, Doctor? DOCTOR!!” Amy screamed as they hurtled through the Time Vortex before it just jolts violently and stops completely. 

“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL JUST HAPPENED??” Rory yelled from his awkward position on the floor.

“That’s weird, the TARDIS is saying I already landed, well, a future version of myself, but in this particular moment here is where a past self of landed. I can’t land in the same exact moment or risk tearing up the universe, so I will land a few minutes before, hold on!” the Doctor pulled a blue lever and the TARDIS jumped to life, with a screech, they landed safely.

“Did we land?” Amy asked cautiously, as she helped her husband off the floor. 

“Yes, let’s go meet the neighbors shall we?” The Doctor beckoned his hand before opening the TARDIS doors, all three of them expecting anything.

A sword pressed to the Doctor’s neck wasn’t on the list of expecting anything.

\-------------------

_**The morning earlier….**_

Sam walked into the motel room Team Free Will was staying in, it was a typical motel room with suspicious stains and washed out walls, he dropped the chinese take-out he managed to grab on his way from interviewing a witness as a ‘reporter’.

“Hey, Sammy! Did you get me some pie? I’m really tired from researching.” Dean rubbed his hands excitedly from the small table across from him.

“Saying you researched when you didn’t really research doesn’t get you pie points, and anyways I don’t think pie is on a chinese food menu.” Sam replied with full snark as he plopped into the old chair. Dean glared at him, unable to make a comeback, as the brothers were about dig into their orange chicken, a certain Angel of the Lord sat down with them, staring at them expectantly. 

“Cas, you’re doing the creepy stare again, I can’t even eat my food in peace, man!” Dean complained as he shoved his rice into his mouth.

“Ugh, _Dean_ , chew with your mouth shut, I remember you teaching me that, don’t throw that ‘rules don’t apply to me’ bullcrap to me again” Sam wrinkled his nose in disapproval.

“Shut up, Samantha! We got jack squat on the witnesses and got no more clues. The only lead we have is the dates, which by the way _is today!_ ” Dean stabbed an innocent orange chicken to accent his frustration. Castiel watched the brothers bantering for another couple of minutes, by the time he decided to input his opinion, they were arguing about whether pie or cake was better.

“Screw you, Sammy! I tried to raise you as a pie-eater!”

“Whoa, whoa! Pie is just liquidly inside and just gooey and _eww_.” Sam made a note of disgust.

“Where did I go wrong?” Dean mockingly lamented, raising his hands in a dramatic gesture.

“Cake is _good!_ Your taste buds are just too awful to appreciate it!” 

“ _Excuse me, bitch?_ Hey, Cas, back me up on this will ya?” the Winchesters stared at him, expecting an answer. 

“Uh…..I do not have the experience necessary to make a stand on the issue of it, maybe we can go and----”

“Castiel, I have received an unusual message, I believe it is beneficial to us.” Naomi smiled darkly at him behind her stark white desk in Heaven. Cas suddenly remembered the torture and his _screams_ echoing in the small space, he immediately noticed the drill next to her hand, however there was no torture chair, which was a relief.

“What am I doing here? What message?” Cas stiffened as Naomi stood up.

“One from Bad Wolf, I believe you would like her, she’s another false god. However, there’s a large petition to accept her as part of the official gods and goddesses in our universe.”

“Bad Wolf? She was the Lonely God’s lover, wasn’t she?” Castiel asked innocently.

“Don’t play that innocent card, you know as well I do that she isn’t supposed to be _here_. Bad Wolf is powerful enough to cause memory problems with _angels_.” Naomi slammed her hands on the desk, causing an involuntary wince from Castiel, she grinned as she caught the badly hidden shudder.

“What is the message then?” Cas said, trying to change to subject.

“She wants the Winchesters in a warehouse because she’s gonna meet them, Castiel do you know what this means?”

“I think tha--” 

“It means that we can be ridden of Dean Winchester and whatever this nuisance Bad Wolf is, we can take down a false god before it becomes too late. Remember the last time a false god tried to come to power?” Naomi finished, giving a false smile that downright chilled him. 

“I will kill the Lonely God and his companion Bad Wolf” Castiel opened his wings for flight.

“And Dean Winchester, too” Castiel stilled at the memory of such _pain_ and the deadness of Dean’s eyes.

“ _Sigh_ , if it makes things easier, you don’t have to kill him.” Naomi sat down at her desk again, smoothing out her suit from wrinkles.

“What? If you’re gonna hurt him, I _swear I’ll--_ ” Castiel banged his hands on the desk.

“You’ll what? Think carefully about what you’re gonna say next Castiel, or I will _make_ you kill you Dean Winchester in the most painful way possible, both for you and him.” Naomi snapped back.

_Silence…_ Castiel lifted his hands from the table slowly, and looked her in the eye daring her to continue.

“Good, Castiel. Now, all you have to do is **not** heal Dean the next time he gets hurt. I mean it Castiel.” Naomi stared at him, expecting an answer.

“No” 

“No?” Naomi smirked gleefully at the answer. Castiel only had time to regret his rashness before he was teleported to the the newly appeared torture chair and pain and screaming was all he experienced over the course of the few days in Heaven learning that ‘No’ is not an acceptable answer.

\-----------------------

Castiel was thankfully back with the Winchesters, however he suddenly so overcome with relief for a reason he couldn’t understand, and what was that strange emotion he kept experiencing during his ‘tuning out’ as Dean calls them, _exhaustion_. The next sensation was falling into something warm, he stared blankly at freckles through the blood coated on his eyelids. _Blood?_ Strange it’s a common occurrence after these strange moments of forgetfulness. Yelling. Who was yelling? _**Dean?**_ Why is he mad? Is he yelling at me, what did I do wrong? His vessel’s senses blurred into one large noise he couldn’t tone out. He thought of his favorite place in Heaven, the eternal Tuesday afternoon, however his thoughts quickly spiraled into the more depressing suicidal thoughts about the atrocities he had done in Heaven. His mind scrambled for a different subject, what were they talking about before he had his moment? _Oh yes, that’s right, they were arguing about pies and cake._ He stared at the bright green eyes and smiled at him and gleefully said “Pie! Pie is better than cake!” before he passed out from exhaustion.

\--------------------

Dean stared at Cas’s motionless body on the bed, one minute he was talking like normal and the next he was bleeding from his eyes, and turned so out of it that he fell off his chair, Dean was able to catch him but it was obvious something was _very_ wrong. Sam was on his laptop, currently researching about bleeding angels, all that came up was english metaphors and a mysterious egg hunt DVD about angels that wept, so far jack squat. The older Winchester appreciated Sam for trying but he had his suspicions it was whoever took Cas from Purgatory and decided to take an opportunity to use the angel as a puppet for whatever reason. 

Dean sighed, “Sammy?”.

“Yeah Dean? What is it?” Sammy looked up with bleary eyes from staring at his computer after 3 hours of non-stop research.

“Do you mind going out and getting some grub? I’ll take over the research a bit.” Dean replied.

“Uh, are you sure? Dean, he--” 

“Sam, would you just go? I’m hungry over here!” Dean snapped.

“Fine, I’ll leave you to watch over him, or whatever creepy starey thing you’re doing.” Sam jabbed as he got up from the table and cleaned it off stale chinese food. The younger brother grabbed his jacket and left, only mentioning burgers and pie, which Dean completely ignored as his worry made his stomach clench in unease. He sat there, thinking about the good old days of the apocalypse, at least things were much simpler back then. Demons were jerks, and so were angels but Castiel was the exception, he _believed_ in him, not as the Righteous Man but as Dean Winchester, the boy who sold his soul, who loves pies, burgers, classic rock and is an awesome singer. Dean chuckled, Cas was always talking about how he was watching over him but now _Dean_ was watching over the angel now, it’s strange how far their relationship has grown.

\-------------------

Crowley’s lair was bustling with activity, there was news in the supernatural world, demons kept bringing in reports of something powerful happening in a small insignificant town in Wyoming. Creatures ran far and wide to avoid whatever the big event is, due to some long distance calls, Crowley’s team managed to understand that something _wrong_ has been happening for a long while. Souls arriving in hell when they haven’t done a single bad thing in their life or even a demon deal. He’s heard that the angels are getting ghost souls, where a soul gets into Heaven but disappears from the archives and is apparently still on Earth, _alive._ The rogue reapers are becoming fewer and fewer as they return to their real jobs and no longer are freelancers. It was frustrating not understanding what’s got everyone's panties in a twist, so when a demon gave him a report that the Winchesters have been spotted at the center of it all, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. 

“Sir, the Winchesters have been spotted today in Alpine, Wyoming, what would you like to do?” The demon handed him a folder on his desk, contained of pictures and proof that it was them. 

“Lovely work! You will get a promotion.”

“What’s my promotion sir?” The demon fidgeted in anticipation.

“You will get another day of existence, now you’re dismissed.” Crowley smiled as the demon flitted out. Crowley was considering a visit to them, but he had a lot on his plate so to speak. The king of Hell just _knew_ that Winchesters were involved in this, no doubt they were gonna break the world, _again._ Crowley chuckled, Sam broke the world first, Castiel broke it for the second time as God and the Leviathans he released, maybe it would be Dean’s turn this time. He wondered what “good intentions” would they use as an excuse this round, suppose he could send some hellhounds to distract the little hooligans for a while until he had enough time to give them a personal visit, maybe they could finally meet their demise, although it was unlikely, but maybe the anger of his pets over the recent death of his favorite hellhound was enough to take down the Winchesters. So be it, he waved his hand and his hellhounds were rushing after the Winchesters. _Sigh,_ now back to paperwork.

\---------------------------------

Dean was busy scrolling through the channels it’s been an hour since Sam left, he was stroking Cas’ lovely hair as he sat next to him on the bed when he heard an all too familiar sound. As the barks of the hellhounds grew louder, he just finished salting the windows and doors when suddenly his phone buzzed, he glanced at the new text.

_**Run, now. Go to the warehouse, you’ll be safer there, do you really want the hellhounds to hurt Castiel while he’s out of commission?**_

**_-BW_ **

Dean stared at “ **BW** ”, why did that sound familiar? A small voice agreed with the advice, did he really want to lead the hellhounds here. He glanced at Castiel’s sleeping form, _he looks so peaceful_ , decision made, he grabbed his duffel bag full of weapons and ran outside, careful not to ruin the salt line. He ran quick as he could, the Sun was setting over the horizon, his brain immediately deduced he was heading north, the warehouse was 2 blocks away from the that small bar in the town plaza. The growls of the hellhounds were extremely close now, the warehouse was only 1 block away when he felt large claws attacked him. He made split second decision, and gave up his duffel bag to serve as a temporary distraction. Almost there….he stumbled through the iron doors when he was met with _people_.

“Get away! They won’t get you if you just back off.” Dean warned the strange group.

“Are you okay? Do you need help?” a british man with a red handkerchief asked him. 

“What I need is _salt_ , and I don’t have any. Cas, this would be a great time to wake up and get your ass done here.” Dean panted as he closed the iron doors with a very convenient bar, he knew it would only last a couple of seconds. 

“Who are you? Did someone called Bad Wolf led you here?” another british voice spoke, female by what he can tell. _Is this an English Crazy People Tourist Group or what?_ He brought out his gun and aimed it at the doors, his back toward the civilians, he could hear shouts of surprise.

“Name’s Dean Winchester, I’ll try to hold the -uh- dogs off and try to find an escape, they won’t go after you as long you don’t get onto their bad side.” Dean chuckled.

“I’m Amy Pond, and this is my husband Rory. We’re here with our friend the Doctor, but he’s talking with someone right now.” Amy told him, the door was still hold firm but he could see splinters at the edge at this point. Wait a minute, the _Doctor?_

“John Watson and Sherlock Holmes, here.” two other british voices introduced.

“I’m Merlin and this is Arthur.” the red handkerchief voice was most likely Merlin. _Yep, most likely English Crazy People Club of the World_. 

“What’s going on here? Why do you have a gun, I don’t like guns, I don’t use them!” another voice exclaimed as a screechy noise was heard but soon faded out of existence. _What the hell???_ He could hear Amy introducing him as the Doctor, the same asshole that’s been causing Castiel trouble with his memories, in fact it could be the same person that made him pass out. _Goddamnit._

Dean spinned around, finally looking at the people he’s protecting, a cute redhead girl with a scrawny man that seemed to be friends a weird guy who wears bowties. _Seriously, Crazy People._ He also observed “Merlin” is actually a guy in his early thirties who’s wearing a blue hoodie with a red handkerchief and jeans. “Arthur”, was also dressed in a red hoodie and jeans also, _no creativity for a dead English King, huh,_ but there was also a beautiful sword tied to his belt.

“Lemme guess, that’s Excalibur you’re carrying.” Dean joked as another bang hit the door.

“Yes, it is. It was forged in dragon’s breath and it can kill almost anything.” Arthur replied proudly. 

“ _Riiight._ The undead King of Camelot, okay I can deal with that, my life is already weird.” Dean sighed. He eyed the two remaining people, one looked very terrified, _civilian obviously_ , and the other had the look of ex-soldier written all over him, gun was already out and ready. Now that he thought about it, about half of the people in here had ex-soldier written across their foreheads. Strange. 

“Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, huh? Aren’t you guys supposed to be book characters?” Dean chuckled as he recalled faint memories of accidentally stealing a book from a library, a Sherlock Holmes one that is. 

“Huh? We’re not book characters.” Sherlock spoke up, apparently recovering from shock.

“Hello, I’m the Doctor!” That weird guy with bow ties held out his hand with a beaming smile, Dean immediately didn’t trust him, he could tell something was off about him.

“Yeah, I know. I don’t like you” Dean spat as another large bang came from the door. 

“What’s happening?” Rory stood in front of Amy, acting as a human body shield. 

“Big terrifying dogs, and if anybody here had salt that would be really great. CAS! WAKE UP AND GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE, I NEED YOUR HELP, PREFERABLY BEFORE I DIE?!?!” Dean shouted as he aimed at the door again, it was nearly off it’s hinges at this point, not long now. He yelled warnings to the crazy british people behind him.

“It’s coming for me only, or at least I hope, so just stay back, I’ll hold them off until you guys escape.” Dean cocked the gun, only seconds now. The door burst open, he could hear their invisible nails click on the concrete as they rushed toward him. He sent another quick prayer before shooting all of his rounds into the hellhounds, he grinned as he heard yelps of pain, but suddenly he was thrown to the ground, claws raking into his intestines. All three of the hellhounds were digging into him now, he faintly registered cries of horror, suddenly the dark warehouse light up brightly as the light bulbs exploded in fiery sparks. 

Castiel stormed in, lights exploding and wings visible, with a gust of wind that knocked everybody down to the ground. Dean widened his eyes in shock and relief, he rarely saw Castiel's warrior of God side come out especially with so much Holy Wrath bursting at the seams of his vessel. It even _hurt_ to even look at him through squinted eyelids. Castiel whooshed to where Dean was lying and smitted the hellhounds out of existence. _**Damn**_. He realized that not everybody shared his feelings of safety at the angel's sudden entry into the warehouse. He risked a glance at his unlikely companions, unable to fully take his stare off Castiel, in fear he might disappear on him again. Arthur was sheathing Excalibur out as Merlin brought his hands in defense, his eyes glowing bright gold in warning. Sherlock stared in shock, probably his super-smart brain was malfunctioning at the first real proof that not everything was as it seems. John's instincts in the battlefield kicked in and made him shoot 6 rounds of ammunition into Castiel. Dean was tempted to shout at him to stop wasting his bullets but a sudden flash of green made him swivel around to see the Doctor pointing a strange tool at the angel, he didn't look scared but rather _excited_. Dean glared at the man, he hoped that whatever that sonofabitch was doing wouldn't hurt Cas.

Castiel finally moved, the light show was still in full effect, “Hello, _Dean_ ” his voice like gravel on an old road. It made Dean's stomach swooned in not so manly way. _**Holy crap, I'm such a girl**._ A sudden pain stabbed him throughout his body that reminded him why Castiel was here in all of his holy glory. His intestines was barely inside his body and countless bones were broken, he also suspected that his skull was fractured in a couple of places.

“Hey, Cas , what's up” Dean felt the hot blood trickle down his lip as he coughed.

“Who are these people, did they hurt you? I can smite them if you so wish” Cas glared.

“N-no. They're all uh--- my friends, Cas, it wouldn't help if I had _more_ friends dead.” Dean tried to smirk but it ended in an another round of coughs. He saw Arthur running at the angel, his sword raised high at a fatal angle. Dean tried to shout out a warning, he knew the former dead king wielded Excalibur, who could kill _anything_ , possibly an angel but he didn't want to test the theory. Castiel reached down and carried Dean into his arms, bridal style, the hunter's guts twisted with that strange emotion again. Without looking up, Arthur suddenly flew back with an unseen force, Dean's rapidly deteriorating brain explained that it was angel wings that pushed Arthur back. At the fading black edges of his eyes, Dean could see more people moving, he knew his friends thought he was being kidnapped or in danger. He didn't care. Dean gripped the trench-coat, his whole world shrank to the smell of blood, ozone, and the strange scent of lemons as The Righteous Man cuddled closer to Castiel's chest. In more than 3 decades, Dean has never felt more at peace in the arms of someone who _cared_ for him other than his father or brother. He could hear people shouting, he tried to hold on to reality but failing, suddenly a deep voice rang clearly through his subconscious _**Dean go to sleep, I'll watch over you**_ , Dean's body obeyed without question.

Castiel looked down at the fragile human in his vessel's arms, he brought his forehead to his human, channeling his “mojo” since his hands were full. The angel closed his eyes in concretion on repairing the body of one Dean Winchester as he smiled at the memory of rebuilding this same human after raising his soul from Perdition. Castiel opened his eyes again to witness his fatal wounds fading away to nothing than scars and bruises that should heal over the course of 2 weeks. He reluctantly pulled his head away before he started counting the freckles on the sleeping hunter's face. It was completely dark in the warehouse, the only source of light was his grace illuminating his vessel, the angel gave the strangers a glare that could -no- **DID** turn even the strongest armies in the whole of Creation away in fear.

“Who did this to him?” Castiel asked in the way like the calm before the storm. The angel studied each of the different faces and glimmering souls before him, he could see the strings of fate entwining every single of those present including himself. In any other situation, the angel would have marveled at the different shades of brown, black, and red among them but this was not any other situation. He also noticed that each of the faces contained a similar trait, _fear_. The one with the weird attire of dress that Castiel was sure that died out human generations ago spoke up.

“Hello, I'm the Doctor!”

“DID YOU DO THIS TO HIM?” Castiel yelled with his true voice slipping through. He could see the humans writhing on the ground, blood seeping through their ears, he knew it was far beneath what they deserved if they hurt Dean.

“STOP THAT!” the Doctor screamed at him, Castiel obeyed because he knew it was pointless to argue when he could just question him.

“I said, who hurt Dean Winchester? I need to know now” Castiel repeated sternly, barely concealing his true voice.

“We didn't hurt him, we just found him like this! If you're an angel that's supposed to protect him, then you're a lousy one if he got hurt like that!” the redhead woman piped up, Castiel answered her with a cold glare in her direction, she backed down, _smart move_.

“He was shouting about some dogs after him, or something like that. Dean kept asking for salt like a lunatic and something just ripped him up, he kept yelling for Cas and then you came guns ablaze, and that's all we know, I swear!” another voice retorted with hair dark as midnight with a red handkerchief around his neck.

_Hellhounds, he was going to give Crowley a beating like no other in existence_ , “Crowley.” he gave a wide grin that made the angel look more unhinged and deadly than ever to the others.

“Whoever this Crowley guy is, I pity him, but first can you explain what just happened to Dean and who –no--what you are?” the Doctor asked cautiously.

“I am Castiel, an Angel of the Lord, and hellhounds attacked Dean.” A chorus of gasps throughout the group and a strange thud responded his declaration.


	4. Chapter 3

Rory liked staying at Camelot, watching the people go by, sometimes he would eavesdrop on whatever they were saying, rumors and all that. He learned that Merlin was very close to Arthur and always went along with him, so much that the people dubbed them as inseparable. The sorcerer always visited Rory every night he could, he sat down and listened to the adventures he had experienced in his time of the Lone Centurion. He witnessed the Fall of Rome, fought off Franks and thieves, and met long dead kings. Rory also told Merlin about the stars, he knew every star in the universe should’ve combusted, yet they were still there in the sky, every once in while he sees a star explode or a new one appear. It was very peculiar and Merlin couldn’t make heads or tails of it either. Today it was a beautiful clear night, both Merlin and Rory were on top of the Pandorica, just staring at the night sky, until Merlin finally broke the silence.

“Tell me about my destiny, you knew who I was, how?” Merlin asked.

“I can’t tell you that, I suppose it has to play out, history and the laws of time and all that.” Rory answered, he’s been here in this place for 2 and a half months, and Merlin only asked two times already.

“That’s what the dragon says too. ‘Nobody can run from his own destiny’, sometimes I think it’s a load of hogwash.” Merlin sighed. Rory didn’t reply, the moment stretched for another couple of minutes until Merlin spoke up again.

“Tell me more about what’s inside the Pandorica, does it have powers or something, it just can’t have your wife in there.” Merlin inquired and held his breath, he knew Amy was a sore subject to talk about.

“I suppose it has power, I mean it’s strong enough to contain the Do- Lonely God after all. I heard him say it was locked up with every powerful lock ever in whole of the Universe.” Rory agreed with a sad note, he remembered Amy’s dazzling smile faintly now after so many centuries have passed. The both of them laid there for a long time. 

Rory could hear the snores next to him now, no doubt Merlin would regret sleeping up here with him in the morning. He can’t sleep, so he remained still until the sun rose, watching life rise from their beds and greet another day. Rory didn’t wake Merlin up yet, he decided the young man needed the extra sleep. Merlin always worked his hardest keeping Arthur alive and yet still managed to do chores and it requires lots of stamina. It was also amusing to witness the interaction between manservant and king, it always made his day a bit bearable. The Lone Centurion stood up into an criss-cross applesauce position as he watched the king walk up to him, glaring at the dirty boots that belonged to Merlin. 

“MERLIN! Wake up! This is the ninth time you fell asleep here, why can’t you sleep in your own bloody bed?” Arthur slapped the muddy boots for emphasis, he also sent a glare toward Rory, he knew he lets the servant sleep in.

“Good morning-uh-how are you today, sir.” Rory awkwardly waved his hand at the king, he also tried to smile but it came out all wrong, but it was enough to deter the king’s disapproving gaze.

“Whha? What time is it??” Merlin asked as he rubbed his bleary eyes and ran a hand threw his hair that stuck up in every place possible, he could even see some leaves and bugs that fell into it. Rory had to stifle a giggle, robots don’t giggle but Rory tried to be human as possible, even it was stifling fake giggles, it was funny all the same. Rory hopped off from the top of the Pandorica with ease, however it was too tall for Merlin to jump off without injuries included. Rory reached up and carried Merlin down unto the ground, he only received a pat on the back as thanks and the sorcerer walked away with the King yelling chores at him.

It was dark again, another day has passed, Arthur went on a quest somewhere with Merlin and his knights a few days ago. His restless thoughts temporarily settled on the the Round Table. _There was an actual round table with the knights of Camelot and all!_ Rory smiled as he went back to the fantasy of telling Amy about everything he’s experienced, the laughter and tears. He was startled out of his memories when a shadowy figure moved at the corner of his eyes. The last centurion quickly stood up in a defence stance in front of the Pandorica, he rested his hand on his sword, it might be a peasant, but better be safe than sorry.

“Show yourself, _please?_ ” Rory asked bravely to whoever was in the dark, hiding. He could technically use his special vision but that would be cheating and wouldn’t be fair.

“My name is Morgana, and I have come to speak with you.” A black haired woman stepped in front of him, only a few paces away. 

“Morgana? Like _the_ Morgana, enemy of Emrys and one of the most powerful sorceresses ever?” Rory asked as he shook her hand in greeting.

“Yes, Morgan Le Fay, well that’s my official title according to the Druids.” She smiled at him, he detected a hint of something dark in her gaze, but he ignored it for later.

“Oh my god. I can’t believe I actually shook your hand. This is really surreal, it’s actually great to meet you, I kind of expected you to be older though...then again I thought the same of M-Emrys.” Rory grinned awkwardly at the woman, who seemed to be puzzled by his actions, _oh well, it doesn’t matter._

“I wanted to talk to you about Emrys and my destiny. According to rumors you know how it all ends, you are a powerful seer into the future after all.” Morgana stepped closer into his personal space, she looked up at him with her large almost clear green eyes. His mind was screaming that she was coming onto him, he’s a married man and he shouldn’t meddle with a powerful sorceress who could at the very least turn him into a toad. 

“If you’re trying to seduce me, my heart is already taken by somebody else. As for your question, I won’t answer it.” Rory straightened stiffly as Morgana stepped back from him.

“You _will_ tell me what you know. Willingly or not.” Morgana’s eyes glowed yellow as she suddenly grabbed his head in her hands, forcing him to stare into her eyes as she chanted.

_“Carmine incidere, narra mihi omnia scire cupio!”_ Morgana whispered harshly. When her eyes finally finished glowing, she relaxed her grip but not yet releasing Rory immediately. 

“Now, tell me what you know about me and my destiny.” The high priestess smiled cruelly at the Lone Centurion’s shocked face. Rory’s mind scrambled as he prepared himself to resist her magic, but several beats of silence passed. Nothing. No mysterious force trying to open his mouth and spill secrets or try to wiggle past his mental walls and dig up anything spoilery. Morgana’s face crumpled into one of disbelief, she re-chanted the spell but yet again, no effect whatsoever. Rory finally understood why her powerful magic didn’t work on him, he was made of _plastic_ , and he did have a human consciousness, but perhaps it wasn’t human in the sense that magic was able to manipulate it. Maybe he can use this to turn around this onto Morgana.

“Looks like magic doesn’t work on me very much. Always have been strange, after all.” Rory smiled cheerfully. 

“You….you are _impossible!_ The only magic stronger than me is Emrys, and you certainly don’t have a lick of magic in you!” Morgana screeched. The Lone Centurion’s incredible hearing told him that the dawn patrol of the knights was arriving, at six o’clock, every morning on the dot like usual. They would arrive in a couple of minutes, so Rory took out his sword and he posed the tip at her throat.

“Leave, the knights would be here in a couple of minutes, so would you rather sleep in the slums or sleep on the dungeon floor?” Rory voiced dangerously as he let down all signs of humanity, his posture stiff and sharp. If he wasn’t letting Morgana go and she tried to run without all that destiny and laws of time crap, let’s just say he _never_ misses and swords are light things to him, light enough to throw. The sorceress stumbled away from the Lone Centurion, his aura of unnaturalness and power scared Morgana, so she murmured a quick spell and disappeared just as the knights turned around the corner. 

The knights jumping to conclusions, ran to him yelling ‘Sorcerer!’ like idiots, Rory rolled his eyes as he faced the upcoming humans. He quickly knocked them all out in a quick swift movement, his plastic exterior allowed him more mobility and speed and if he didn’t have his armor, the scuffle would have been almost completely silent. _Almost_. The sun rose bright red just as the King and his knights arrived in the courtyard, where the famed Lone Centurion was surrounded by non-moving bodies, the peasants was also just waking up and witnessed the evidence of the scuffle. _Oops._ He watched Arthur’s face harden into one of rage and fury at the knights lain around him, he also noticed behind him Merlin’s face full of shock and disbelief. The knights surrounding the two of them quickly jumped off their horses and sheathed their swords in defence. 

“Explain to me, what happened?” Arthur’s face thunderous, Rory however, felt grateful that he was allowed to explain himself, after all he had met Kings who would kill him without a thought.

“Morgana visited me, and she disappeared just as the patrol saw her. They jumped to conclusions that I was conspiring with her, and attacked me without letting me explain. I didn’t kill them, you can check.” Rory answered truthfully, as he bit his tongue from mentioning that he was a nurse, he knew _exactly_ where to hit if he wanted to kill them. Percival kneeled beside one of the fallen knights and hovered his hand over his mouth, checking to see if his comrade was breathing, he nodded. The other knights slowly sheathed their swords as Rory did the same and rushed toward their fallen brethren and carried them to Gaius to be treated. 

“Lone Centurion, met me in the Throne Room, we will talk more about what Morgana wanted with you.” Arthur hopped off his horse and walked inside, giving him a glare as he walked by. Merlin walked up to him, his face a cross between concern and curiosity. 

“What happened? Did she ask about me?” Merlin asked as he watched the former Roman soldier stroke the Pandorica, his eyes obviously dreaming of a place other than here. 

“Yes, after I tell Arthur what happened, or at least a close version to it, I’m leaving. I’ve overstayed my welcome here, and I know this story is coming to a close, very soon. I’ll probably be wandering around south of here. Death is very hard to bear, but I’ll always be there for you, Merlin.” Rory answered with a stare that dared him to ask any questions or objections. The young sorcerer wisely kept his mouth shut as the Lone Centurion walked up the stairs and into the Throne Room to meet with the King. Merlin was left baffled with his cryptic words, _story, death, always be there? What is he talking about?_

Rory stood before the large doors of the Throne Room, he took a large but unnecessary breath before entering it and possibly lie to the King. Even though he knew the rule of ‘The Doctor lies’, he didn’t exactly want to follow him in his footsteps, after all he didn’t trust madmen. 

“Good morning, sir.” Rory bowed before the King, who was standing by the throne.

“I know you have refused to train my knights countless times, at first I thought you viewed us as beneath you, as mere mortals. However, as the months go by, it seems that your attack forms are unlike any other and extremely difficult to maintain, it was almost like if you weren’t...”

“Human.” Rory finished, after he got up from his kneeling position on the floor, he walked up to the King and stared at him. The two of them glared at each other, unable to make a move or speak, a timeless moment between two powerful men.

“Tell me what happened, Lone Centurion.” Arthur finally spoke quietly.

“Morgana thought I was a powerful seer and demanded that I tell her about her destiny. I refused and she tried to cast a spell on me, however it didn’t work because I am made of…. _different_ materials, that has made me immune to certain magic. The sorceress fled after realizing that bewitching me was a futile attempt and disappeared in smoke just as the dawn patrol arrived. They jumped to conclusions and vice versa.” Rory answered the King, careful not to mention anything of Merlin or Emrys.

“Anything else you would like to tell me?” Arthur relaxed his tensed posture, relieved that the famed former Roman soldier haven’t been working against Camelot. 

“I’m leaving.” 

“What? But, what about Merlin? Or Gwen, or anybody you’ve managed to make friends with? Hell, even some of my knights have grown to like you!” Arthur’s face seemed to be a mix of shock and bafflement.

“I know Morgana will try to steal the Pandorica, and I believe that will risk the safety of Camelot, and I do not want to be known for bringing down one of the most famous kingdoms of all time. I will be wandering the fields to the south of here, and pass by Stonehenge and continue southwards.” Rory explained, his face never wavered or indicted any signs of his emotions.

“Wait, Camelot is one of the _most famous kingdoms of all time?_ Why?” Arthur was extremely confused by now, but a little proud that his kingdom will be famous someday, cheers to whatever lucky king that managed to do that. 

“You”

“Wha--”

“And somebody who has been helping you all along, and you and him will make this kingdom eternal in the eyes of mankind.” Rory answered, a little surprised at his genuine tone and choice of wording. _Looks like I have been spending way too much time hanging out with royalty,_

“Ahem, I’m gonna leave in half an hour. Just so you know?” Rory’s usual awkward tone returned. Arthur’s stunned silence only answered him, so he took it as permission to leave and quietly closed the doors behind him. 

Rory, with some difficulty, lifted the Pandorica onto his handmade cart and pulled it behind him as he walked from the courtyard and into the streets of Camelot. Much like the first day he arrived, people were staring and scrambling out of his way, instead of whispering hellos, they were shouting goodbyes. They threw flowers and kisses and lots of merry wishes onto his way, Rory smiled and nodded at the bystanders, always surprised that people cared enough to give him a blessed journey. He finally reached the large gates of Camelot, he stopped and admired the view, and took one last picture into his memory drive before he heard the large thud of the gates being closed. Rory whirled around and saw the pattering clip clops of the King’s horse catching up to him. Arthur pulled his brown horse to a stop in front of the Lone Centurion, using his horse as another obstacle that’s preventing him from leaving.

“Halt in the name of the King!” Arthur shouted, Rory considered the possibility of getting out by force but immediately threw the idea out, he knew those gates took a long time to build and it would probably be unwise to have a broken gate. 

“For whatever reason, sir? I don’t want to endanger Camelot.” Rory explained calmly as he quietly adjusted his Roman headgear. The young King bit his lip and fidgeted with his reins, it was obvious that something was bothering him. 

“Good Luck, Last Centurion. I just wanted to say thanks, for everything.” Arthur finally huffed after a couple beats of silence. Arthur nodded at the guards, and soon the gates were being pushed open again, Rory still waited for Arthur to move out of his way.

“Look after Merlin, will you? He’s the most loyal person I’ve ever met, and that’s saying something from a person like me.” Rory said seriously.

And he left.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> completely unedited and this was written THREE years ago!!
> 
> i re-read this in one afternoon when i was supposed to be writing a week ago because i was blown away by my plot skills lmao
> 
> where did i go wrong
> 
> but i do NOT miss my grammar mistakes back in the day and my characterizations......so painful
> 
> i don't even ship johnlock anymore AND merthur as much as i used to
> 
> ;A;
> 
> seriously tho i DIDN'T REMEMBER I USED TO SHIP MERTHUR
> 
> 2013 was a dark time
> 
> lol
> 
> but i hope you enjoy my old writing since im putting this out here in celebration of getting a new laptop :D


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